


Light (A Fire Inside)

by agenthill



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [18]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Families of Choice, Jewish Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agenthill/pseuds/agenthill
Summary: There are others who observe Hanukkah with her now, but still, some part of Angela will always yearn for more, for a larger community. Some part of her will always be the six-year-old girl marking her first Hanukkah as the only Ziegler left alive.Or,Angela reflects on the place her Judaism has in her life, in her family, and in her relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is uploading... forever late. My excuse is that I was in the hospital lmao. But this is literally so late I'm backdating it rather than facing the fifteen day missed deadline. Whoops.
> 
> To be honest... I almost didn't post this at all as a result, but then clair_de_neptune (gallantly-dreaming on tumblr) reminded me and... well... here we are. Jewish guilt compels Jewish author to upload Jewish fic. Oy vey.

1.

Hanukkah does not begin auspiciously for Angela, the first time she spends it living with Fareeha. In fact, she is wholly unprepared. While normally she might have laid out everything hours in advance, taken a day off to prepare her quarters for incoming guests, and generally been _ready,_ in terms of her frame of mind, this year, she is decidedly not.

Instead, she finds herself nearly sprinting from the dropship to her quarters with only fifteen minutes to sundown remaining on the clock.

A relief mission gone awry guarantees that she, Reinhardt, and Lúcio are all away from base three days longer than intended, leaving none of them at Watchpoint: Gibraltar to make arrangements for the holiday. Instead, it falls to McCree, who after years of being Angela's best friend knows more-or-less what Hanukkah involves—despite having been raised Catholic—to find the Ziegler family menorah amongst many boxes, to make latkes, to procure gelt.

There is, objectively speaking, nothing wrong with this. McCree is a highly trained operative—albeit one trained in stealth, and not cultural liaisons—and is perfectly capable of following Angela's _very specific and detailed_ instructions. Nonetheless, Angela worries the entire way back to base. It does not do to leave such things to someone else; without any family to speak of, Angela has organized the holiday for herself since she came of age, and was able. (And she has never been good at relinquishing control.)

Furthermore, she worries about the impression Lúcio will have of her, seeing what a mess this is; the year before, he flew back to Brazil, and did not witness the normal, orderly, all-as-planned Overwatch Hanukkah. There are few enough of them on base who celebrate—besides Angela, only he is _practicing_ , after all—and Angela does not want to leave a poor impression, does not want him to decide to travel again next year, and herself return to the isolation of her first year on the Strike Team, the sole Jewish person among Christmas celebrants. (Of course, she would not be fully alone, for there are others who observe Hanukkah with her now, but still, some part of Angela will always yearn for more, for a larger community. Some part of her will always be the six-year-old girl marking her first Hanukkah as the only Ziegler left alive.)

Things smooth out somewhat, however, with their actual arrival. Yes, the three of them run to she and Fareeha's quarters, yes, they barely arrive on time, yes, they are a bit breathless as they recite the blessings, but they do so _together,_ the three of them and McCree, and is that not the sort of community for which Angela has always longed—all of them, thinking as one, experiencing this together? Perhaps, there is nothing amiss at all. (Perhaps, even if there were, she would not notice, swept up as she is in adrenaline and the heady feeling of _belonging._ )

In the moment, everything feels as it was meant to be, not a thing out of place.

 

 

2. 

As it turns out, Angela need not have worried about Lúcio finding a place in Overwatch's Hanukkah. Brazilian custom is not so different from the Hanukkah celebrated in Swiss Jewish communities, both having Ashkenazic origins, and the few differences are easily incorporated by all.

What Angela did not anticipate, however, was the difference in _meaning_ Hanukkah has between herself and Lúcio.

It is true, certainly, that she and he have not often been in agreement when it comes to discussions of morality, or the virtues of passive and active resistance, or one thousand other things which pit her pacifistic ideals against his revolutionary spirit. It is true that, in the beginning, this made it hard for the two of them to understand one another, much less get along. It is true that, even now, with peace between them, and the tentative hope of friendship, they still find themselves skirting around such topics they know will be points of contention—they have come to respect one another, it is true, and perhaps even begun to understand one another, but that does not mean that they agree, nor that they ever will.

Somehow, despite all of this, Angela does not think even once about how, to Lúcio, a man who has led a rebellion against his oppressors, Hanukkah might be a time to celebrate the victories of the oppressed. She thought about the fact that he might prefer summer foods, thought about learning Portuguese songs, thought about how his lovely voice might balance out her own (and Reinhardt, and Jesse's) very tone-deaf singing, but she did not consider what must, to him, be most important of all.

For Angela, Hanukkah has long been like most other holidays, one which, in some way, focuses on purity. The purity of the candles, the purity of fasting, the purity of cleaning one's home of breadcrumbs—all things, for Angela, return to the idea that she might be cleansed, that if she were to follow certain rituals, she might be forgiven the things she has done, the decisions she has made, the actions she has not taken. She feels guilt, often, and intensely, for living, for failing to save others, for the necessity of doing harm, and her faith helps to free her from some of that guilt, helps her feel, for a moment, as she was before all of this began, when she could still look at herself in the mirror and say with certainty that she was _good,_ and would do no harm.

(But perhaps, for Lúcio, it is no different. Perhaps, seeing an example of rebellion which was justified, and is still celebrated today, he can sleep easier, knowing that he was right to lead his friends, his family, his community into battle against Vishkar. Perhaps, for him, this emphasis is important as purity is for her.)

When Reinhardt and Jesse nod along to Lúcio’s discussion of what Hanukkah means to him, Angela is surprised to find that she, too, does not mind lighting tonight's candles in honor of rebellion, of the struggles of people around the world to be free.

There is something to be said for seeing a different side of things.

 

 

3. 

Reinhardt is the loudest among them, in prayer and in song; such is his nature, and never has Angela found it unpleasant. After Jesse left, in the old days, when it was only the two of them, she was grateful for it, and she is grateful now–when Reinhardt sings, it is loud enough that if she were but to close her eyes she could imagine that they had a minyan, that it is not just the few of them, that she is among her people, and not in some half-abandoned base, fugitive from the world. If she were but to close her eyes she might still be amongst her family, and it might be her own father or grandfather’s voice, by her side.

(In battle, and out of it, Reinhardt is worth ten men, and more.)

Everything Reinhardt does is passionate, and loud, from his rallying cry on the field, to his exclamation of “Frohes Chanukka!” to the sound, Angela hears drifting through the hall, of him imitating Santa Claus for Christmas. All things are equally important to Reinhardt, equally deserving of his full attention, and the religions he was raised with are no exception.

(Angela asked him, once, how he could reconcile believing both, being both Jewish and Christian, during a crisis of her own faith. She still is not sure she understood his answer.)

No matter the holiday, Reinhardt is always first among them into the spirit, and center of the action. For Hanukkah that is easily achieved with his boisterousness, his exclamations and running commentary over a game of dreidel. Perhaps, in another man it might be a bother, might seem insincere, but Reinhardt seems so genuine, always, in his happiness. Seems so complete.

(“I do not believe in either, Angela,” he had told her, somber, suddenly, and quieter for it, “How could I, with what I have seen?”)

Over the past twenty years, Reinhardt’s cheer during Hanukkah has been one of the few constants in Angela’s life, with his enthusiasm for a holiday he remembers fondly from boyhood a counter to her own tendency to grow morose. When he smiles, it is so easy to believe that this is how it should be, just this, nothing more.

(“What I believe in is people, and traditions, and the importance of having a connection to our past. I need nothing more.”)

Perhaps, the importance can be in the tradition, can be in the simple act of being with others, the creation of a place for oneself where otherwise one might not exist. Certainly, Angela cannot deny that it has made him happy, and that she does not derive happiness from the same–she would still celebrate, alone, has done so before, but some things are best shared, amongst the happiness of others.

(Angela wonders, though, if his enthusiasm does not mask something else. If he does not smile, and throw himself into the holiday with them, because he has nothing more.)

When Reinhardt laughs, one cannot hear the silence of those not present.

 

 

4.

Unlike the rest of them, Jesse is neither culturally nor religiously Jewish. He might, far back, be descended from someone who was Jewish, so he has said, but this is not the same as the ties the rest of them have to the faith, to the traditions.

(The only thing that has ever tied Jesse to Hanukkah is Angela.)

Nevertheless, it is he who has celebrated Hanukkah longest with Angela, and therefore it is he whose company she most treasures during the holiday. Without Jesse, her oldest and dearest friend, no holiday feels complete, but Hanukkah most of all feels empty without him. It was Hanukkah, in fact, which brought them together, and so songs feel empty without his (poor) voice, dreidel games feel less colorful without his swearing, latkes taste more bland without having had to fight him for the correct topping first.

(They did not get along, Angela and Jesse, when first they met, and why should they have? They had little enough in common but the quarters to which they had been assigned. It was Hanukkah that changed this, that first bridged the gap.)

Without Jesse, Angela would still be celebrating Hanukkah alone–Reinhardt would not have learned of her faith, Lúcio would have returned to Brazil to be with his family, and she would be here, as she was before him, before any of them, lighting candles dutifully all alone, blessings soft and wanting. She knows this not only because this is the way things were before Jesse, but because this is the way they were after him, in the years in between, when she had no one but herself, travelling from warzone to epidemic site to disaster area with no more than a single trunk of belongings and her head held high.

(When she came to Overwatch, she brought her family’s menorah, and her medical license, and the clothes on her back. Jesse brought an old guitar, and his hat, and a deal. Their first Hanukkah together was spartan, perhaps, but it needed little else.)

With Jesse at her side again, Angela has begun, at last, to stop worrying that no second voice will join her in reciting the blessings, has finally begun to shake off the weight of a dozen Hanukkahs spent alone. With Jesse here once more, Angela has found a constant, has found someone in her life who may leave, like everyone else, but who, despite such, returns to her, again and again.

(The first three nights, Angela lit the candles alone, sang alone, ate alone. The fourth, Jesse joined her, words clumsy on his tongue. Angela faltered then, herself.)

In many ways, Jesse is not only Angela’s oldest friend, but her truest and most dear. He is a single constant in her life, even when she would leave all other reminders of her past behind.

(“I reckon,” he had told her, half apologetically, “That nobody ought t’ sing alone.” She wanted to tell him, then, that she had since she lost her family, that she had imagined she would for the rest of her life. Instead she nodded her agreement, misty eyed, and continued.)

Jesse is her family; he has been so since first he joined her, and she would have her family–what little of it remains–with her for this, always.

 

 

5. 

On the fifth evening, Lena joins them at last. She hovers at the edge of the group as they light the menorah, she does every year, but joins enthusiastically in their singing afterwards, when they come to songs she knows (which, by now, is most of them). In truth, she has no ties to the holiday at all, and never has had any, but she learned a bit about it in school as a girl, and expressed interest in participating after joining Overwatch—enthusiastic about this holiday as she is about everything else. By now, she has become a staple, even if she never joins them for more than the one night.

(She is busy, Lena, always busy, both on-base and off, especially during the holiday season. That she makes time for them, even for only one night, means a good deal to Angela, as a result.)

One night is enough, a reminder that they are safe here, are accepted by the greater community, without the presence of Lena (and others, before, who have not returned to them since the Recall) threatening to distract too much from the true purpose of the holiday. For one night, all of their friends are welcome to join them, and Angela brings out the dreidels she has painted for just this occasion. One for each of the people whom she expects may come.

(It is usually for children to paint them, she knows, but this was the only thing she was trusted to do, young as she was when she last celebrated with her family, and so it is something she does still. This is the only constant in her celebration aside from the menorah itself, a way of bridging the gap. She is dexterous enough, anyway, trained as she is from years of surgery, that she paints well, so no one questions that she does this, that she gives this gift. They are a small thing, yes, but she has worked hard on them, and their meaning is, to her, greater than most things.)

With her bright orange dreidel, Lena claims the pot entirely too many times, laughing gleefully with each win. (Jesse suggests that she is cheating, recalling after a bad spin, and none of them can disprove it, but Angela imagines she would not gloat half so much if she were winning dishonestly.)

The sound of Lena's laughter as she once again takes the pot, and with it, the last of Jesse's gelt, easily covers the soft rattling of the remaining dreidel in Angela's box as she tucks it away.

 

 

6. 

Observance on the sixth night is the shortest of all, lasting only the requisite half an hour before most everyone disperses. It is on this night that much of the rest of Overwatch has scheduled their Christmas party. On years when it does not coincide with Hanukkah, Angela generally joins Ana for tea, and drags Jesse with her, despite his refusal to drink tea any way but iced. During Hanukkah, however, they stay in her room, just the two of them, and talk until they are tired, and the candles have burned down, just as they once did, when it was only the two of them observing.

(While Jesse was raised celebrating Christmas, his memories of the time are not fond ones, so he is as grateful to have her at this time of year as she is him.)

It stands to reason that Reinhardt would celebrate both Christmas and Hanukkah, just as he did as a child, and Lucio's decision to participate secularly is none of Angela's business, but when they leave, and it is just Jesse and Angela once more, she finds that, for once, she feels a bit lonely, even if he has always been enough for her before. It is strange, and confusing, and so she remarks upon it, because while neither she nor Jesse is particularly good at dealing with their emotions—and why should they be? no one teaches teenaged soldiers to do anything more than push through the pain—they might, together, have a chance at understanding what it is she is feeling.

(Despite their differences in opinion when it comes to so many things, the years have only brought them closer together. There are things each of them has seen, and done, that only the other could understand.)

So, she tells Jesse as much, expresses her dismay at feeling such despite being thirty-seven years old, her dissatisfaction with _herself_ that she cannot make her faith feel enough for her—her fear that she never will be able to, and that she is in some way a failure for it, is doing something wrong—and is only slightly miffed when he laughs in response.

(Laughing is just how Jesse deals with things, Angela knows. He laughed when he lost his arm, laughed when Jack and Gabriel fought, laughed as he turned in his resignation and kept laughing the whole way to the airport. She knows better than to take offense.)

Except, perhaps this time, she ought to have, for Jesse _is_ laughing at her. "I reckon," he says, sounding smugly sure of himself, "that you aren't feeling left out. You're just missing somebody, is all."

(That never occurred to Angela, used as she is to missing out on things, the legacy of a lifetime of being the youngest, least experienced person in the room.)

Jesse is not wrong. There _is_ someone missing, there has been all along, even if she has refused to voice the thought until now.

 

7.

The seventh evening goes nothing like Angela imagined it might.

What she thought would happen, after Jesse pointed out to her that she was missing Fareeha's presence, was that she would speak with Fareeha briefly, would ask that she join everyone that evening—because she did not think to ask, because she assumed that Fareeha would be there, as this is their shared living quarters, now, because this is a tradition that is important to her, and she can be slightly blinded by that—and now, Fareeha would be here, with her, and the rest of them.

What actually happens is that Angela realizes, quite suddenly, that not only did she not ask if Fareeha might _join_ her for Hanukkah, but she also never asked if Fareeha was comfortable with her celebrating such in what is now _their_ space, and not just her own. Because Fareeha has never voiced any objection to her observances—the mezuzah at their door, her recitation of _Shema Yisrael,_ that she ensures the preparation of their food is Kosher—she has simply assumed, unfairly, that Fareeha would continue to accept her practicing her faith in whichever way she so chose.

Fareeha, however, has not done the same. There is no place in their home with a mat for prayer, no expectation that Angela will fast alongside Fareeha for Ramadan, no way in which Fareeha's faith has woven its way into Angela's life.

So Angela finds herself, rather than inviting Fareeha to join her, giving a jumbled apology, a mess of _It was inconsiderate_ and _We'll do this elsewhere, next year_ and _I'm really, very sorry that I didn't think to ask—it's tradition but I should have known better and you know I wouldn't want to impose._

When she stops, at last, to take a breath, Fareeha simply looks confused. "You do know that I was at the Christmas party last night, right? I'm not bothered by this in the least."

Angela blinks. Once, twice. It is good, of course, to know that she has not been so inconsiderate as she thought she was—or, rather, she has been, but there was no offense given in having done so, but there is just one thing that does not fit. "You've been gone every evening, not just last night?" when she says it, it is a question, not just a statement.

"Oh!" Fareeha looks a bit surprised, "I didn't know if I was allowed. It's not, you know, something I know anything about. So I just cleared out. I figured it would be less awkward than asking, or me standing there while the rest of you did... whatever it is that's involved beyond lighting the menorah itself."

_Well._ Angela feels just a bit silly, for having worried now, just a bit foolish for having tripped over her own words in apologizing, without even asking if she had caused offense. While she does still feel that she made a mistake, in not asking, that she was not as aware of Fareeha's boundaries as she ought to have been, at least she need not ask forgiveness, this time.

"So you'll join us, then?" this is what she has been hoping, all along, that Fareeha might join her, so that _everyone_ whom she considers family would be present, even if she has not dared give voice to that hope before now.

Fareeha frowns, and Angela's own smile falters in return.

"Not tonight, I think. I still don't know anything! Maybe tomorrow?"

_Tomorrow,_ thinks Angela, as she lights the candles that night, _tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow._

Hanukkah is, after all, a season of hope.

 

8. 

When the eighth evening begins, there is no scramble to reach the menorah on time, no one missing, no worry about impressing anyone. There is Lucio at her left side, Jesse on her right, Reinhardt behind and looming over them, and Fareeha, smiling softly from across the room, simply observing until they are done with prayer.

The two of them spent the morning discussing the tradition, the meaning, so Fareeha might decide what she was comfortable with, what she felt was not a betrayal of her own faith to partake in, and although talking about things is not something which comes easily Angela, not one of her talents, she feels better for having done so.

(Soon, they have agreed, they will discuss the same with Fareeha's own customs, and Angela feels that their relationship will be stronger for it. She knows a little, from Ana, but Fareeha is not her mother, and the role of religion in her life may well be different.)

Fareeha does not join them in singing, either, joking that she could hardly learn the proper notes when Angela attempted to teach her (which, unfortunately, Angela cannot say is _untrue_ ), but she does eat latkes with them afterwards and, to Angela's horror, joins Jesse in dousing them in _ketchup,_ of all things.

(This, of course, reignites the annual debate of what is and is not an acceptable topping for latkes. To think, Angela had truly believed she might escape it for a year.)

When they play dreidel, Angela can, at last, remove the last of her painted dreidels for the year from its box, and give it to Fareeha.

(Fareeha, who practiced learning to spin Angela's for an hour earlier that day. It might have been easier, had she used her organic hand, had been able to feel the spin with her fingers, but her left, prosthetic hand is dominant, and Angela knows that she prefers to use it, when she can, feels better for having the ability to control it, for not having to worry about switching hands.)

Fareeha's luck is nearly as terrible as Jesse's, and so they are all spared his accusations of cheating for the night. In light of this discovery, Angela decides to put off cleaning the dishes for the next morning, and joins the rest of them for a round or two—she is certain, now, that her luck is quite good.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from YET ANOTHER One Direction song because I'm Like That, this time it was Diana.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed this despite it being not seasonal--unless you're reading this in December of 2017 or later. In that case, Frohes Chanukka from the past.
> 
> As always, you can hit me up on [tumblr](http://agenthill.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment, if you feel so inclined.
> 
> Either way, hope this finds you well.


End file.
